Introduction and summary
I have been a long-time fan of the Hunger Games series, both the books and the movies alike. The Hunger Games series was a significant influence on my teenage years. Even before I became socially and politically aware enough to fully understand the depth of themes within the books. It wasn’t that the book’s political messages weren’t apparent; I think anyone with half a mind could assess that there is political and social commentary contained within the books, more so, I just didn’t have enough life experience to understand the weight of the commentary. Suzanne Collins has iterated that she does not write for the sake of it, but rather when she has something important to say. This was incredibly evident throughout the book and its themes, which I will delve into shortly.
Now, onto the book itself with some mild spoilers ahead, so you have been warned. I’ll do my best to stray away from specifics; however, I will mention certain characters so if you want to go in totally blind, look away. Sunrise on the Reaping (SOTR for short) is a prequel to the original trilogy, but technically also a sequel, taking place several decades after Collins’ The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (TBOSAS). It follows the character Haymitch Abernathy, who was originally introduced in the original trilogy (OT) as an alcoholic, depressed shell of a pessimistic man. In essence, quite the unsavoury individual at first glance. As the trilogy goes on, we get slight glimpses of why he is the way he is and that the Capitol got their hands on him and his loved ones somehow. We also see that there is more to him than just the mess he initially presents himself as. Now, some of the suspense is taken out as we already know how Haymitch’s story technically ends. He obviously survives his games, but there are multiple questions the book immediately raises. He is seemingly all alone by the time the OT rolls around, so it begs the question…how did that happen? Which the book does answer, and let me tell you guys this, Haymitch is a far better man than I, because after everything he survives in this book, I’d have ended it all if I had to experience all of that. I cannot blame him for what he becomes in the slightest. However, his story does technically end on a high note because he lives to see the rebellion, he lives to see Katniss, and he lives to see the fascist state of the Capitol taken apart brick by bloody brick.
What I liked
So, there was a lot I liked about this book, I’ll be honest, and I wasn’t surprised that I would. I’m biased; I loved the others. The first thing I’ll address is Collins doubling down on social and political commentary. Maybe it is because I am older as I engage with this series, but it is so much more overt than the previous books. It could be due to how the audience has engaged with her books previously. For example, a lot of online commentary didn’t see how Snow is very obviously a horrid person, and he made every worst choice possible because fundamentally that is who he is. A product and enabler of a fascist system. However, by the end of this book, it is hammered into the reader that President Snow is the devil, the Capitol perpetuates hell on earth, and that there are no depths that fascism won’t sink to to sustain itself.
In the political climate that we are in right now, this book screams that history is written by the victors. By the time the SOTR rolls around, the events of TBOSAS are a faint memory to the districts and the Capitol itself. Footage of that Hunger Games cannot be publicly accessed, and the victor’s name, long forgotten except by those… intimately acquainted with her. The ballad of Lucy-Gray Baird has been over, and so few remember her. Washed away from history like sand on a beach. However, there is quite an insidious scene that takes place within the book that perfectly shows how fascism deletes culture and history, yet they are the only ones who end up knowing what they took from the world. The intimate knowledge of knowing what they stripped bare and overrode with their narrative. I think that is something incredibly relevant in this day and age, given what is occurring in Palestine.
The overarching theme of this book, at least to me, is all about how fascism shapes and dictates the narrative through media and propaganda. It doesn’t matter what actually happened, but what is actually believed to have happened. We get to see the earlier days of the Hunger Games without all the spit and polish that we see in the OT, where they finally fixed the ‘kinks’ in the machine. A specific scene occurs that showcases this, where those in charge will spin events in whatever way necessary through editing and body doubles and more.
Which flows into the main media man that is Plutarch Heavensby, whom we get acquainted with during his younger days. He is in charge of filming the action and spinning whatever happens to put the Capitol in its best light and furthering the propaganda machine. Whether through a botched reaping or a botched tribute presentation, the real story must never get out, but the show must go on. I think it is an obvious allegory that what we are presented by the media is often expertly crafted to get us all to believe a certain narrative, which could be the furthest thing from the truth. It also goes for both sides of the political spectrum, as we see in the OT how Heavensby seizes the power that the Capitol nurtured in him, thrown right back at them for the rebellion and revolution. After all, the revolution will be televised.
On the flip side from Heavensby, who is actively aware of the lies and propaganda that the Capitol must push as their spin doctor, we have a young Effie who fully buys into the Capitol and the Hunger Games wholeheartedly. Effie is shown to be a genuinely caring but naive individual. She does try her best to do good, but good for her is defined by pushing the greatness of the games and thus, ultimately, the Capitol. I think Effie and Plutarch demonstrate an interesting dichotomy on how fascism must be sustained. You have those who shape the narrative, and those who never take the time to question or critique it, and ultimately end up pushing a destructive narrative. Effie is woefully naive as to the circumstances that the tributes are under due to her privileged position of living in the Capitol. As for the aspects that she is aware of, she justifies it as a necessary evil to ensure peace and prosperity for both the Capitol and the Districts. To challenge and question the Capitol outright would be to challenge her comfort and privilege. She may be kinder about it than the other citizens of the Capitol, who genuinely view the districts as animal pens, but they are still all on the same side of fascism. It shows how fascism isn’t only sustained by those who commit the violence necessary to establish fascism, but those who do nothing to stop it too. Every day, people who may not know the truth, but also gladly turn a blind eye to it, because the truth is too uncomfortable to stare at for too long.
Now, Haymitch may be our protagonist, but it is these character interactions that we see the world for what it is, hence why this review focuses on them. Both we, as the reader, and Haymitch see in real time the cruelty of the Capitol. Haymitch just wanted to survive, yet this is contrary to the narrative that the Capitol wanted to push. Nothing more than collateral. Haymitch does not seek to be a revolutionary; he does not seek to fight, all he wants is a simple life with his family and his love. However, this book shows that even those not in the direct crosshairs of the Capitol are not safe. That any life under fascism can be taken and used to further propel the narrative, regardless of how fair it is or the collateral damage that ensues. He is forced to put up a fight, but as we know from OT, it was fruitless; however, it is still so heartbreaking to see him backed into a corner that we all know he doesn’t come out of unscathed. I could simply summarise Haymitch’s story as ‘oh it can’t get worse, but yet it somehow always does’. He is punished for trying to do the right thing, and he keeps on trying to do the right thing, until that is what ultimately dooms him. The most doomed by the narrative protagonist I’ve come across in a while.
Conclusion
Ultimately, there wasn’t much to say about what I didn’t like about this book. Collins introduces us to an ensemble of tributes that we know are going to die, and still makes us care for them deeply. This book, and all books in the Hunger Games, show the cruelty of fascism by seeing these children sent off to kill and/or die. Collins could have had adults in the Hunger Games, but instead, we see a society built around child warriors and death. SOTR lets us see up close how the Capitol is run. Not by geniuses or brilliant masterminds, but by a system that only has to control the narrative to cover up its failings. It shows the part that everyday citizens must play to keep the system going, and that fascism is not self-sustaining. Haymitch is just another unfortunate victim of the system.
Lazlo ranking: 8/10
Things I liked
- Clear focus and critique that propaganda is the strongest tool that fascism has at its disposal
- Lack of political nuance
- The ensemble cast, all with their quirks that Collins has us care for, knowing how it all ends
- Gripping, devastating, emotionally taxing
Things I did not like (negligable)
- I wish we could have spent some more time with certain tributes
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